A little fun
by Edette
Summary: 28.8.1588, the defeat of Spanish Armada. From the time on for centuries already, Spain finds himself under his former enemy on each 28th August. But what if England doesn't show up this time?


_Where is he?_

Spain was sitting on a chair and impatiently watching a clock.

_Show the English ass of yours, finally!_

The Spaniard has already gone through impatient roaming; now, it was time for sitting, eyes never leaving hour pinters.

Ninth hour evening's was coming soon. A calendar on the wall was showing date of 28th of August, and still, the Englishman was out of sight. It's never happened, that he wouldn't show up.

It became a kind of a tradition which lasted for a few centuries already. It was unthinkable to break it, and yet, yet.

It was very simple, in fact. Every year, on the day of 28th of August, the day when the Spanish Armada was defeated in 1588, England has shown up on the treshold of Spain's house. Not long after, Antonio has always found himself on the mattress under him; as always both fascinated and annoyed by the smirk of Englishman, which the former pirate's saved from the times of his Imperium perhaps for this day only.

However was Arthur in pirate mood anything but gentle – although the roughness was softer and softer every year until only a shadow of past was left – Antonio was enjyoing and looking forward to those times.

Despite all the swearing and complaining, and even fighing once, his all day's charge was waiting for the Englishman impatiently. He's already reconciled with the fact that this tradition is inevitable and he's already made the day his day off. Actually, the only thing he was still wondering about.. What is he still doing at his back? Why hadn't he already switched positions to give things a new momentum?

He was sure Arthur doesn't take his complaining seriously. And he didn't think a day he won't show himself will come.

The great pointer pointed it was half past nine. Englisman still nowhere. Antonio laid hands upon a table, his head resting on them. Perhaps something happened? Maybe he's got a work to be done? Maybe he.. forgot?

No. Yes, something could've happen, but the last second choices seemed to be very improbable. Spain was sure Arthur wouldn't let the day pass without having his little fun and that he would arrange all things to have at least the afternoon free.

Something obviously wasn't alright.

And he'll find out what it is.

It was almost midnight when Antonio knocked on the door of Briton's dwelling. He was sure Arthur isn't sleeping yet – in case he hadn't fallen asleep on work table – and that he's at home, since two windows were in lights.

Even so it took a few minutes before Arthur had finally forced himself to open the door. He couldn't be even more surprised when he saw the Spaniard outside.

„What are you doing he-"

„Let's talk inside, _sí?_" Tonio didn't wait for anything and walked along the other man to get into the house before he would possibly slam the door before his nose.

„Would you mind to finally tell me wha-"

„What's wrong?"

„Excuse me?"

„Why didn't you show up?" spat Antonio before he could stop himself or even think about it. He didn't want the Englishman to know how impatiently he was waiting for him and how dissapointed he felt when Arthur decided to not show up. The question surprised Arthur, who sat down on a chair and waved his hand to another chair, offering it to the Spaniard.

„It's a nonsense," he stated after a while of thinking over it and looking at the other pair of emerald, for once serious eyes. Arthur shaked his head nervously.

„It's time to move on. End it."

„What do you _mean_, end it?" Spain jumped off the chair in shock, slamming hands on the table in front of him and leaning over it.

Arthur ran through his hair tiredly.

„Listen, I know you never liked this and.. It's just silly to continue."

„You can't be serious," the Spaniard blinked in surprise and gave a small laugh of disbelief. So, now he cares about his complaining? He? The pirate, who's always slammed him upon a bed, whether he complained or not?

„_No, no,_ you misunderstood." Now, it was Antonio's turn to tiredly run through his hair.

„I don't mind being with you. I just.. don't want to bottom." he explained and watched, how the Englishman almost dropped his jaw.

Signs of shock dissapeared almost as quickly as they came. Arthur straightened in his chair and clenched armrests of his chair, gravely.

„No way in hell!" monumental eyebrows of his furrowed into a stubborn frown. It caused only a smile from the Spaniard. He couldn't have expected anything else from the mulish Briton, could he?

„We'll make it after your example, what do you think?" Antonio made his way around the table and this time leaned over Arthur, who was giving him a disapproving look, when he literally wedged him deeper into the chair and licked one of those frowning eyebrows. Although Arthur has always avoided it; he licked his lower lip and before the Englisman could blench, he locked their mouths in a kiss.

It was his turn to smirk, now.

„No questions. Just actions," With this words, he grabbed England and holding him in arms started climbing upstairs, to bedroom.

„Whether you like it or not!"

Arthur _loved_ the smirk.


End file.
